


The Honeypot

by Heatherlucky29



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Tarzan - All Media Types, Winnie-the-Pooh - All Media Types
Genre: Community: disney_kink, Disney, Disney Multiverse, Disney Parody, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Written on a Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherlucky29/pseuds/Heatherlucky29
Summary: Once upon a time, in a Snapchat group, there was an argument about whether a gorilla or a grizzly bear would win in a fight. This argument led to the realization that there was no Winnie-the-Pooh/Kerchak slashfic in existence on the internet, which subsequently led to a dare, which ultimately led here. This fic is a crime against humanity, the meme-iest of memes, and, hopefully, a good laugh. A thousand pardons for what you are about to read, and godspeed.
Relationships: Kerchak (Disney)/Winnie-the-Pooh, Winnie-the-Pooh & Other(s)
Kudos: 4





	The Honeypot

The helicopter descended without decorum, ruffling the canopy of the African jungle as it landed, alien against the natural backdrop. The Inspector soon emerged from its depths, loosening his formal tie with a beleaguered sigh, deftly ducking back in to avoid getting brained by a massive dump from a kingfisher passing overhead with a quiet “oh bother”.  
Kerchak stood in the center of the clearing, frustration and aggression evident in his stance, and in the two beefy middle fingers he had raised to the heavens upon the helicopter’s arrival. The Inspector made his way over, briefcase in hand, briefly pausing to adjust his suit pants to make sure they still accentuated his plump plushy ass.

“What can a guy do to get some honey around here” he called to the pissed-off gorilla over yonder. “The private jet from Sussex was all out.”

The response was immediate (and incomprehensible, as it was conducted in exclusively monkey noises): “Cut the bullshit, Winnie. Our agreement was a hundred acres. You’ve marked off nearly five. I was well within my rights to pursue legal action.”

Winnie the Pooh paused a few feet from the silverback, taking a moment to consider (and to consult his British to Simian Pocket Dictionary) before closing the gap and whispering in Kerchak’s proportionately tiny gorilla ears “Oooh baby I love it when you talk legal to me.”

Kerchak raised a theoretical eyebrow. “Hoo ooh ha ha hmm oourh grrh harrumph rump hooh ooo heo oeh groupon oooooo skrrrt abbbbbrup skeet skeet mrrrrrrup vroom vroom” (Translation: Fuck you, Winnie the Pooh), followed by “Let’s talk about Section 1 (a) of paragraph 3 of the Timber Resource Management and Legality Licensing Regulations, hm? About how I, as the Chief Executive, dictate which land is eligible for grantwork and forestwork, and how you, as the appointed Inspector, have chosen to ignore my orders entirely, and, if my source is correct, have used the paperwork to mulch your neighbor’s vegetable garden?”

The Inspector’s response was to slowly and sensuously lick residual honey from his right paw whilst making unbroken eye contact with an unimpressed Kerchak through half-lidded eyes.

“Oh dear,” thought Pooh, “my powers of seduction are waning.”

“Kerchak, darling”, said Pooh, “if I, if us, ever meant anything to you, please stop this utter legal nonsense.”

Kerchak didn’t even pause to reflect on their times together- the first gentle caress of Pooh’s strangely digit-less hand, the time Pooh told him the tale of the Blustery Day at a candle-lit cave dinner date. The time he sucked the poison from Pooh’s unfortunate snakebite, and they made love on a bed of venomous vipers. The time Pooh trussed him up with jungle vinery. The time they fucked under a waterfall. The first time he ripped off Pooh’s Inspector attire with his disconcertingly sharp and arguably sexy gorilla incisors.  
The Inspector, preoccupied with the trouble the agency was going to have to go through to send another seductive honeypot in order to sweettalk the local leadership into spiriting off with additional African teak, at first failed to notice the lack of an impact his words had on his monkey mark.

“No” Kerchak grunted. “Today, we finish this.”

“A lawsuit is too expensive”, Pooh replied. “Let’s fight to the death instead.”

The sound of Kerchak’s affirmative grunt was met with the gentle crunch of Pooh’s necktie settling on the forest floor. Kerchak tried not to let the painfully familiar sight of Pooh disrobing distract him from their death match, doing his best to ignore Pooh’s undeniable powers of temptation and raw, unadulterated sexiness.  
They squared up, and the clearing echoed with the sound of African wildlife wielding chainsaws tuned to Kerchak’s walk-up song, “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani.  
In response, Pooh began the ritual of calling upon the power of his mighty bear ancestry by snorting a massive line of cocaine, his cuddly body immediately transforming into that of a mighty killing machine. He grew two stories tall, manifested claws sharper than a serrated steel blade, fur more bulletproof than if safety glass and Kevlar had a mutated, inanimate demon baby, and a gigantic, pendulous, massive schlong big enough to assert his dominance over all of the local gorillas combined. With all of this power, Winnie the Pooh officially and decorously yeeted his former gorilla fuckbuddy into the sun, razed the entire African forest into the ground in the name of capitalistic symbolism, and retired happily to the Hundred Acre Wood to watch the sun set on a grateful universe.

The End.


End file.
